Grimacing, Assallya Kressair watched the melee unfold. Taking an arrow to her gut had taken much of the fight out of her. It wasn't the first time she'd been hit with an arrow. By the nine hells, if she died here it wouldn't be the first time. What she couldn't understand was how the warriors seemed to get used to the sensation and charged about with a dozen quarrels in their charred, dragon toasted hides. Certainly, she would heal, her secreted ring of regeneration would see to that so she wasn't afraid but by Cyric's black heart, it still hurt. Clutching her wound with slender fingers, Assallya steadied the shaft. She knew what she was supposed to do, snap off the shaft so that if she had to move it wouldn't tear at the wound. Knowing that... and doing that were too far separate things.

Both heroes were well surrounded, crushed between the initial group and the reinforcements. She considered a number of options, most of them illusions. Laying atop her bench, she cast another spell, this one quite different than the paralyzed attackers the heroes had cut down. This time, off in the distance a thick wedge, seemingly made of stone, cut through the soft earth leaving a long furrow of churned soil. It wasn't real but everyone feared the power of the bulette, the dreaded land shark!